The Slytherin and the Hufflepuff
by gratefulsugar
Summary: It's good, just read it. Disclaimer in first chapter. Second chapter up. Mature in later chapters for sure, and will also be lots of language, probably.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter or anything that has to do with it. That would be J.k. Rowling. Also, I'd like to inform that my story takes place before the 6th book ever happened. So therefore, Snape is still around, Dumbledore isn't dead, and so forth. I'm having the Golden Trio searching for horcruxes a year earlier. Let's just say everything has kind of sped up a notch but nothing is going to end up how it did in the books. It starts out right before first term at Hogwarts begins in their 6th year and we go into the story with Draco's point of view, sort of. I'm not the best writer but I'm trying. I'm open to advice and suggestions. Also my memory is kind of shot so please forgive me if I make a mistake on any HP facts that I mess up. Either way, creative license. This isn't my first fanfic; I used to write stories all the time years ago but this is my first one since then so I'm very rusty. Please give it a chance. This is a Draco and Other Character Pairing. I think you'll like her though. I don't want to give away too much so here it goes.

Chapter 1  
He Would Be Different

The Dark Lord favored his voice. He _liked_ how he spoke, with dry wit, subtle charm and steadfast confidence. He needed to use Draco Malfoy's voice for his advantage. So he could interrogate the captured and enslaved muggle-born and mudbloods alike. The Dark Lord was obsessed with finding Potter, and getting to the people who were close to the infamous Golden Trio was imperative, for the three former students were now hoofing it in God knows where to look for and destroy horcruxes and Voldemort knew it. For this reason, he made Draco attend his school year with a rotten plan in mind; now that he was at the ripe, bold age of sixteen and fully-capable, he wanted Draco to be the eyes and ears of Hogwarts: to infiltrate the system, stealthily spy and set it up so Voldemort could finally get his hands on Dumbledore. And without the rubbernecking Golden Trio there to ruin it, the plan would work perfectly.

While he was walking down the cobblestoned street of Diagon Alley, the white sun blurred Draco's vision and stung at his eyes as he recalled back to what The Dark Lord had said to him that fateful night.

"Lucius, bring me the chalice," Voldemort hissed. "We must drink to your son's good fortune, for he has officially joined the right side of this _war_." He spoke the word with such a malice, as if to think there should be no war, that people should not be fighting or disagreeing with him. All the while though, he smiled through gritty yellow teeth, amused at the thought of people rioting like rats just to epically falter in the end.

Lucius' slumped shoulders were a silhouette in the gleaming of the moonlit sky as he entered the archway to the garden with a chalice and wine bottle clutched in his weak hands. Time had not been good to Lucius, nor had anything really good happened for Lucius since Bellatrix killed Sirius Black in cold blood months before. He had quickly become the Dark Lord's most loyal, although very pitiful servant. The Dark Lord had murdered Worm Tail in disgust for his absence of honesty and his abundance in cowardice. Yet Lucius was also that of a coward, he had plenty of candor and genuineness. Draco watched as his father knelt down, putting the cup on the table and filling up the goblet, a little more than painstakingly slow, with blood red wine. His light blonde hair fell over his pasty white face as he poured, quietly shaking. He wished his father wouldn't be so sickly. He felt horrible for him, but he made his own choices.

Draco gasped in the cool night air, trying to breathe in valor and grit and breathe out his nervousness. The new, spell-cast tattoo on his left arm felt like a thousand tribal men stabbing through his flesh with spears. He even wanted to touch it, maybe itch it, but he was almost afraid that if he did he would scratch away the mark. You see, the Dark Mark was an essential part of the process, but the celebrating, the drinking of the blood wine afterwards, is your promise to Dark Lord that you will obey his every command and worship the ground he walks on. The wine was an infusion of The Dark Lord's blood and your own, once you are cut open. Draco wanted to say he was scared but he was not an idiot. He quietly chewed his bottom lip, staring as Voldemort took out a knife.

The dagger glistered in the essence of the moonlight cascading down onto them in the green garden where they stood at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa offered her only son a mother's comfort. He tried to smile as he felt her warm arm wrap around his shoulders. The sad, broken family watched as the Dark Lord stained the cutlass with his own blood and dripped it out into the goblet with a clenched fist. He cackled as he beckoned over to Draco.

"Now, Draco, come to me," Voldemort rasped. "Hold out the palm of your right hand, the opposite of the mark," Draco did as he was told and extended his right arm. The Dark Lord did not laugh, not out loud, but Draco could still hear it, his merciless, shrill fracture, mocking him. One slimy hand grasped his arm while the other held the knife which glittered like diamonds. "This will hurt," The Dark Lord grinned. Draco let out a slight groan as Voldemort's blade sunk into and sliced open his palm, squelching his flesh and letting blood flow out like a river down his fingers and into the golden chalice. "Quickly, Draco, now drink." As the pain ebbed and faded away, the silver haired boy closed his tired eyes, slowly taking a gulp of his blood infused wine, and feeling himself become more of a man.

The memory thankfully dissolved as he walked forward, past Flourish and Blotts and into The Leaky Cauldron, where he fancied himself a butterbeer. He was getting himself mentally prepared for this upcoming year, which was starting today. He was yet to board the train for one hour so he figured since he had everything ready he would relax until it was time. He sat down, acquired his butterbeer and then ordered a honey glazed chicken breast with potatoes mashed, as well as leafy green spinach. Even though it stunk, Draco was not completely opposed to eating it. He knew it would help keep him strong since he had gained many muscles over the summer and had really toned up. He felt more able-bodied and robust as he ever felt in his life. He was always a scrawny kid, but he was finally growing up. At this rate, by the time he is twenty-two, he should be a well-built strapping young man.

Maybe he will even find someone to be his wife someday, he thought. That he wouldn't have a problem finding. He knew deep down the one thing he might never find, would be true love. 'God, I'm a sap,' he thought to himself. But there was nothing wrong with that, he figured as he sipped his drink. He believed that his parents truly loved each other. Why couldn't he himself enjoy that type of love, if he were to find it? Love is what life is all about. In the end though, he wouldn't make the same mistakes his father made. He wouldn't become as weak as he did. Draco would be different; he swore to himself. Whatever it took, he would be different.

He finished eating and checked his watch. It was almost time to get going. Since he was a Prefect for Slytherin again this year, he had to make sure to be punctual. He got to Diagon Alley extra early so that he could stash his luggage on the train and then go walk around for a bit and shop. He downed the rest of his third butterbeer, wiped the sweet foam from his lips and paid the bill. He went on his merry way, seemingly happier than he actually was. He liked putting on a show. He didn't trust people with his real feelings so he either feigned complete contentedness, or he made himself absolutely stoic. That way people would always be guessing, or not wondering at all. It was bright and sunny today, very warm with a slight cool breeze. Perfect weather, in Draco's opinion. He skipped over the cobblestone rocks in the street as he heard the Hogwarts Express' horn whistling in the distance. He began walking faster. He had about ten minutes, and he would make it there in five. Perfect.

He rounded a corner behind a building and whack, right into someone. Wild locks of dark brown hair fell all around him, tickling his face and a slender warm body pressed down upon him, trying to stand up. "Ouch, oh my God," a voice peeped. "I'm so sorry." Draco heaved a sigh of slight pain when she got off of him and respectfully smiled up at what must be a female. He decided to go with his charming self. "Oh, it's completely fine," he smirked and realized she had dropped some bags she was carrying in the clamor. "Here, let me help you." He offered as she quietly gathered two of the bags and Draco grabbed two more. "You're going to the train, correct? What year are you?" She sighed and blushed. Draco got a good look at her; Her skin was slightly fair with a golden hue and her long dark curls looked soft. He just observed how her crystal blue eyes sparkled when she spoke. He had hoped she didn't notice him inspect her, or rather check her out.

"Oh, well actually, I'm going to be new to Hogwarts this year. I'm a transfer from Swanfern School for Witchcraft. It's an all"

"All-girls academy, I've heard of it. Very prestigious. Why move here?" he interrupted, only then realizing he was being too intrusive. She frowned. He noticed she had a dusting of freckles grazing her cheeks and nose. She was rather cute, if he wanted to be honest. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. Walk you to the train?" She agreed and he continued to carry her two bags as they strolled down the street to the platform. As they walked she told him, "I'll be in my sixth year, how about you?" He smiled at her, showing off his perfect white teeth. She stared at him. He was tall and sort of lanky, but he had toned muscle she could admire through his oatmeal colored sweater. "Same, actually. Aren't you nervous?" he asked after a moment.

"Nervous, why would I be nervous?" she asked, perturbed. "Well, because you'll have to be sorted into a house by the sorting hat. It's rather exciting though," "Oh, right, I did hear about that. No, not nervous, or excited, but more excited than nervous." He blanked, mouth agape at her. "What?" "Oh, nothing, I'm just thinking, you're a wacky one aren't you?" "Perhaps," she said, peering up at him. He gazed down into her eyes. It felt like he was searching into her soul. His orbs were a steel gray with hints of azure and peridot, but they set her body on fire. She found herself wondering who the hell this guy was. She never did get his name. They arrived to the platform finally and she almost felt relieved. "Well, I guess it's time," she took a deep breath. "What was your name again?" she pressed. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And you?" She released one of her hands from a bag and let it drop to the ground, removing it to shake his hand. He took hold of her soft hand gently shook it. "Riverpool, Rosie Riverpool." He smiled, trying not to laugh at the pun her name was. "Well, Rosie Riverpool, it's usually the wacky ones who get sorted into Hufflepuff." He decided to exclude the fact that there was indeed a very odd girl who was in Ravenclaw but he wouldn't mention it at this time. "Nice to meet you."

He let go of her hand and left her standing there before the train. He climbed aboard and she picked up her abandoned duffle bag. She had researched it and she didn't think Hufflepuff sounded all that bad. There were many a great witch and wizard who came from Hufflepuff, and rarely ever a dark one. Rosie would have nothing to do with this war had her parents not been murdered in a rampage by Snatchers in the night this past summer. She was left with a destroyed home and nowhere to go. She did not want to go back to Swanfern, she wasn't really like those girls. She was different. So Rosie reached out to Dumbledore at Hogwarts and he gladly welcomed her into his fine educational home and establishment. Here she could start over fresh. Yes, she still had a lot of grieving to do, but she would make it. She would be different. The horn blew it's whistle hard and loud and Rosie mustered up her courage and set forth onto the Hogwarts Express to her new life.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again I do not own anything that has to do with the Harry Potter books or movies. J.K. Rowling owns it all. Also, I haven't searched it, so I am not aware if there are any other stories like mine out there, so I apologize if there is anything cliché. This is for my own good fun anyways and also because I have had a story like this in my head for a while. I want to thank my few reviews for the encouragement and compliments! That certainly means a lot to me and really helps to motivate me. Thanks again. One more thing, I want to apologize for the short first chapter. I am attempting to make future chapters much longer. Here is the second chapter! Cheers!

Chapter Two  
Getting It All Sorted Out

Draco strolled into the Great Hall with grace, like he owned the place. Maybe one day he would, he entertained. If he did his duty to the Dark Lord, he may get whatever he wanted. He just hoped that he would never _look_ like Voldemort. He shuddered internally at the thought. He certainly took care of himself with hygiene habits that left him pristine and smelling handsomely. Of course his deadly sin of vanity kept him worrying. Dark wizards were known to eventually look as evil as they were on the inside; warped posture, twisted wiry beards, with beady, sometimes red eyes, and splotchy skin. As long as he doesn't go around creating horcruxes, Draco knew he could never actually come to be like Voldemort, but becoming the epitome of a dark wizard was not exactly something he wanted on his to-do list. Yes, he was materialist, bred to be a sustaining leader of upstanding society, so he enjoyed possessing his own things of particular value, and he definitely enjoyed earning them, but he often was condemned to wonder if this was the life he truly wanted. In the end, what would he be truly happy possessing? He wasn't sure yet, but he kept smiling through it all. No one will ever know he suffers. He wouldn't dare show anyone his pain, the real him.

Next on his to-do list, besides stuffing his starving face, is to see where that cute new girl gets sorted. He spotted her on his way in sitting patiently with the first years waiting to adorn the old, raggedy hat. He really couldn't help but wonder about her. So mysterious, in the middle of a bloody war to switch schools. He was curious and wouldn't lie to himself, he yearned to know more about her. How strikingly beautiful she was, with a slightly generous sprinkle of freckles, long hair a shade lighter than deep raven, and glittering blue eyes, he was enraptured. He had never really known his type of woman until he saw her after their mishap of a meeting. He always had Pansy Parkinson pining for his affection, but he wasn't incredibly into her. She wasn't hideous, but she didn't strike his fancy. This girl however, Rosie, he wouldn't mind getting closer to.

He remembered though, he had to focus. He couldn't let a female distract him from what he had to do whilst first term; find out anything he could about the possible whereabouts of the Trio - Pothead, sniveling Weaslebee, and know it all Granger were going to regret being on the wrong side of the war. How annoyingly Gryffindor of them to pick up and leave right before school starts to search for horcruxes. 'Do they even know what they're doing?' he thought as he sat down next to Blaise Zabini. 'Doubtful the two idiots have a clue but I'm sure the bookworm knows a bit of something.'

"Attention everyone!" a shrill voice piped from the front of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall stood beside the new students waving her arms excitedly with wand in hand. "Listen up students of old and new! It is just about time to begin the sorting assembly! Sit quietly and let each student go forth to their destinies without clamor, and we shall all eat our feast in a timely manner! Let's give a round of applause for all of our new students!" Everyone cheered and either stood up wailing their arms or clapping their hands discreetly from their seats. Draco clapped, a small smile on his face as he watched McGonagall pat Rosie on her back with a welcoming stance. Professor Snape appeared to almost glide across the floor like ghost as he quietly brought forth the old bucket of a hat, which somehow had been kept in great condition for centuries. He had his typical solemn frown and narrow glare but curiously amazing posture. "Alright, students, as you must already know, you can be either sorted into Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Slytherin," she said the last with a slight grimace. Zabini yowled out a "Woo!" and all at the Slytherin table were happy about it despite the look she gave them. "First student, Rosie Riverpool!" Since she was the eldest of the new students, she would be the first sorted, then the rest of the first years would be alphabetically called.

Rosie considered herself a brave person, but she had to admit, Swanfern was nothing like Hogwarts. Which she was thankful for, however, she was slowly realizing that this group was a rowdy bunch. And since she was smack dab in the middle of a war the lot was as loud and rebellious as ever. She had only a smidgeon of an idea until she was on the train, riding in a compartment with a small group of girls who would be in her year. They welcomed her in after she boarded the Hogwarts Express and was frantically searching for a spot to sit since she had been late arriving. "I'm Ginny Weasley," a claret haired girl greeted as Rosie took her seat next to a blonde girl. The blonde smiled at her with warm blue eyes. "I'm Luna, Luna Lovegood." She stated. "Hannah, Hannah Abbot." Another blonde sitting in the corner exclaimed. "Welcome aboard to Hogwarts! It's not often it gets new students this late in the years."

"Wow, you all are so nice," Rosie said, but stammered when she saw the look on their faces. "Not that I'm incredibly surprised, it's just, where I went, at Swanfern, the girls there weren't always so sweet naturally." The three girls chuckled. "Oh, it's no big deal." Ginny told her. "To be honest, we are just a little caught up admiring your amazing looks." Rosie blushed and Luna chimed in, "It's true, you are quite stunning." "Oh, my, why thank you. I've never gotten such a compliment before." She thanked, genuinely taken aback at their kindness. Hannah peeped, "What is your name, mystery goddess?" she nicely joked. "I'm sorry, I totally forgot! It's Rosie, Rosie Riverpool." Luna gave out her hand for her to shake. "It's very nice to meet you, Rosie."

"Riverpool?" Ginny asked with a far off look in her eyes. "Why, yes," Rosie said, unsure of what Ginny could be thinking. "We all saw that name in the paper." The crimson haired girl replied. Rosie shuffled her feet and peered down at the carpeting of the compartment. "Your parents… I am so sorry. And I am sorry for bringing it up. Most of us here have been unlucky enough to have been through the darkness this war can bring. We have fought against that darkness. If you ever need anything, you know, anything, advice, or a hand with something, we can provide for you." Ginny leaned in closer and began to whisper. "We have a pretty good thing going, a good ol' secret, if you will." Rosie's ears wiggled with anticipation and wonderment. Ginny continued, "If you wish to discuss it further, do not be afraid to find me. I'm in Gryffindor. I'm also a Prefect this year, so I'll have access to a lot of resources."

"Thank you, Ginny, that means a lot." Rosie wasn't sure what she was getting herself into with that one, but she was glad to have made some quick friends. Rosie thought back to the tall silver haired boy she met before in the street. She wasn't sure if she should mention him or not, something told her not to, but her curiosity got the better of her. "I met this boy," Rosie started. "What, a boy?" Hannah chimed. "From Hogwarts? Who?" "He said his name was Draco." "Draco Malfoy?" Ginny said with disgust. "Oh, _no_! You do not want to be anywhere near that wanker!" Rosie didn't know what to say. "Trust me, he's bad news. He is _not_ on our side, if you get what I'm saying." Ginny was very heated. "Was he mean to you? I'll kill that little ferret."

"Now Ginny, calm down, we will get to the bottom of this," Luna was the voice of reason. "Oh, it's hard to calm down with Mr. Ferret walking around freely to do as he pleases. He should be thrown in Azkaban with the lot of the Death Eaters." Ginny continued with utter resentment in her voice. "Shh!" Hannah hushed from the corner. "We mustn't speak of such things in such close corridors."

"It's fine, really, he was actually quite… gentleman-like." Rosie told them.

"Draco Malfoy, gentleman-like? Ugh, I'm gonna vomit!" Ginny made a fake hurling face.

"Well, he was nice at first, helped me with my bags and such, but he definitely seemed quite peculiar."

"More than peculiar I'd say," Luna said, "but then again, that is what they call me." She was smiling. "Really? Are you in Hufflepuff? He told me I'm wacky and that the wacky ones usually get housed into Hufflepuff." Rosie laughed nervously. "Actually, I'm in Ravenclaw, and he's wrong because I am proud to say I'm one of the wackiest witches at Hogwarts." "Interesting." Rosie said. "I'm in Hufflepuff! And I adore it!" Hannah exclaimed with joy. "Don't be afraid of the sorting. The hat speaks to you and it's not all as bad as they say." Rosie was glad to hear it. "Well, thank you, I'm not all that nervous anymore!" The girls laughed, even Ginny, though furiously thinking of Malfoy.

Rosie sat down in the rickety old chair as she was asked by Professor McGonagall. Almost at once she smelled a muskiness in the air and old hat was placed on top of her head. There was a moment of silence as the crowds of students in the Great Hall were all focused on her. Rosie drew a deep breath and peered out to the sea of faces looking back at her, only to zero in on one pair of steel blue-gray eyes.

"Ah hah!" The hat spoke and scared the bejesus out of Rosie. "This one… ohh… I like this one. This one is… very special!" "Um… what?" Rosie stuttered. "Yes, I'm talking about you down there. You… yes youuu… where do you belong…?" This time Rosie stayed silent. She hadn't no need to reply. She was a bit too scared to say anything back to the old garment. A warmth melting over her head drowned out the dull noise of the grand room and she closed her eyes, letting the hat envelope her soul, searching for the place she was meant to go. "Your destiny plays an important role in this lifetime… you have a lot to do… so it's decided," the hat paused. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Its voice strained as it yelped out that of the mighty house of the badger.

There was a roar of cheers and applause from the Hufflepuff table and the weight of the hat was lifted off of Rosie. She smiled and got up. How did she know? Of course she would be sorted into Hufflepuff. As she walked to her new table she felt the strings in her heart being pulled towards the opposite side of the Great Hall and she looked over that way to meet Draco's gaze. She gasped. Why did she feel this way when she looked at him? Like she was drowning, suffocating in some kind of haze of which she never felt the likes before. She found herself thinking she wanted to get to know him, to figure him out. She wanted to see if he really was on the dark side of this war, and if he was, would she hate him? Or maybe, he could change? She would have to see in due time. Until then, she would meet her new classmates and learn her place at Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Just to be safe, I'd like to add a disclaimer for every chapter. J.K. Rowling owns the entire world of Harry Potter, I own zilch, nothing. A better summary is coming up. I want to thank my reviewers and followers. It really means a lot to me. Also I am sorry the chapters are so short, I'm trying to make them longer but it just kind of works out that way. Anyway, here goes the third chapter.

Chapter Three

Struggling in Potions

It had been about a month into term. Miss Riverpool had taken quite a liking to her fellow Hufflepuff, Miss Abbot. Hannah was extremely welcoming and hospitable through the whole of Rosie's new experience at Hogwarts. She had medium long blonde hair and amber brown eyes that reminded Rosie of her grandmother's homemade chocolate cupcakes she used to bake before she passed away, years and years ago. Although she had a sweet disposition, Hannah was a tough girl, someone who Rosie definitely wouldn't mind on her side. She had spent most of the duration of her stay with Miss Abbot but Miss Riverpool was intrigued to talk more to Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood. Next chance she could she would see if they would like to spend more time with her. Hannah had spoken to her the night before about three students, two boys and a girl all from Gryffindor who were on a secret mission. She told her this in strict confidence, mind you, when no one else was about in the Hufflepuff girl's dormitory. It was Harry Potter; a name she had indeed heard before. Everyone knew the story of the boy who Voldemort tried to kill, the boy who lived. Harry was Ginny Weasley's supposed beau, who teamed up with her brother Ron along with a famously brilliant witch, one Hermione Granger, who were now long-gone searching for ways to destroy the revolting Voldemort. Hannah talked of them as if they were celebrities of some sort.

Even though Rosie had heard of Harry, his run in with Voldemort as a baby was all she really knew of him. Swanfern was a sheltered school, sequestered distantly away from society. The academy was filled with muggle-born witches who were taught to be withdrawn and uptight. Rosie could never be like those girls though, and she longed for more in life. Living there had been unsatisfactory all together, especially since it was hard for her to make friends, and then when her parents were murdered while she was away on summer holiday with her Aunt and cousins, that had basically been her breaking point. She hadn't even wanted to go to France this year. She had been depressed and wanted nothing more than to stay with her mum and dad this summer, but her cousin Pearl had begged her to visit them. She had agreed, feeling obliged since she hadn't gone the year before. When they heard the news they flew her back to England immediately. They found her house in ruin, and the neighborhood was in shambles. She had to go down to the morgue to identify her parents' bodies and it was an experience she would rather never think about again. Her family had offered for her to stay with them in France, but she had decided she would continue life on her own, and switch schools. Now she was thinking how much of a great idea it was to come to Hogwarts. She was enjoying it so much. 'So far, classes aren't too hard,' she thought to herself. 'I can do this!'

There were strange whispers of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Flynn. Rumors he donned the Dark Mark swarmed the Great Hall the first morning at breakfast. He totally looked the part too, dark black clothing, black beard, and a snarky grin. He was ultimately very scary looking to Rosie. But not as scary as Professor Snape. There was something about Professor Snape that petrified her. With his big nose and long leery glare, he scolded her for a wrong answer in Potions class. Hannah assured her he was just angry he didn't get to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher once again this year. Rosie apologized to Snape, assuring him that she had studied prior to this pop quiz. There was an exam on Friday and it was now Wednesday.

"Enough excuses, Miss Riverpool. Make better notes, get a good study partner. I don't know what they taught you over in that Swan school, love potions and pretty potions," he muttered. "But obviously you've learned nothing of potions such as these. These potions will teach you how to save your life or someone else's so please pay attention! Five points deducted from Hufflepuff!"

'Damnit,' Rosie clenched her fist on the desk. 'I need someone to help me study.' She had thought potions would be a breeze but she was struggling more than she thought she would. Snape continued, "Pull out your quills and take the notes I have up on the board." Hannah gave her a warm stare with a smile. "I could try to help you but the thing is I am already promised to tutor Maisy," she pointed behind her. Maisy smiled. "I don't really have enough time to tutor both of you and study myself… I'm so sorry Rosie."

"That's okay, I can figure it out." Rosie said, feeling independent. She tapped her quill on the desk and gazed around the room. Suddenly she remembered who else was in this class. Malfoy was sitting at his desk across the room biting his bottom lip, ambiguously taking his notes, when he looked up to catch her gaze. He smirked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. Rosie felt herself blushing. She hadn't spoken much to him since that very first day. In fact, they hadn't spoken to each other at all, but all the while she felt drawn to him. And he almost always looked as if he wanted to say something to her, or was about to speak to her but would be interrupted by somebody or something. The anticipation to meet with him was killing her, and she knew he wanted to talk as well. This afternoon before lunch, Rosie decided, looking at him, that she would approach him after Potions class.

The whole rest of the class Snape made them take notes as he sat at his desk while he peered out the corner of his eye at Rosie. She was trying not to stare at Draco but kept peeking over to find him blatantly looking straight at her, wiggling his eyebrows in amused curiosity. This was her sign. He wanted her to speak to him. Rosie didn't happen to notice that Snape saw the entire exchange and was looking at Draco with dark scolding eyes. He didn't want Draco to get involved with any female, distractions they are, especially that of a Hufflepuff. If the Dark Lord found out, he could use any information to his advantage against Draco, if for some reason Draco disobeyed or betrayed Voldemort. Girls were just a bad idea. Draco regarded Snape as he got up from his seat at the end of class and gave him a smile and mouthed the words, "Don't worry," Snape just glared at him in obvious fatherly disapproval, and Draco contemplated it as he walked out the door.

He found Rosie waiting for him. "Well, hello, Miss Liverpool- I mean, Riverpool," he said jokingly as he took her books to hold for her. She was stunned he was carrying her books for her as they walked. She gaped, "Um, thank you… and very funny at your lousy jab at my name!" she poked him in the shoulder. "What?" he said. "There's nothing wrong with the Beatles. They're classic muggle music."

"Really? You like the Beatles?"

"What, I can't like the Beatles?"

"Well, it's just…" she paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "I heard about you." But she wouldn't tell him how Hannah told her he was a possible Death Eater. "Oh?" he didn't look at her this time. "They say you're a cruel person, from a cruel family."

"Ah, and there it is. I was waiting for this moment. I knew you'd think low of me."

"I certainly don't think low of you. I'm speaking to you now aren't I?

"That you are, I applaud you for such heroics."

"Oh, please. I'm no hero for talking to you."

"Most Hufflepuffs scurry away from the snake. See? Everyone is looking at you for associating with me. People are scared of me. I know what they say, I'm not daft." He walked passed her and Rosie grabbed his arm. "Wait," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

He peered down at her with a soft gaze, it seemed like his mind was somewhere else now. "It's okay. I understand. You're just being cautious, I get it. I won't lie, I am trouble, but something is clear to me, Rosie Riverpool."

"And that is?"

"You like trouble. I can see it in the way you stare at me. You blush." Rosie's cheeks turned pink at his words. "Ugh, I don't blush. And I don't like trouble! You're wrong."

"Am I, now? Me, wrong? No, I don't think so." She giggled and gave a light chuckle. It was a nice moment, just them smiling, looking at each other. "Well, if you'd like, I can help you with studying for the Potions exam."

"Really?" She squealed in delight. "Thank you so much!" And she took his big calloused hand in her small soft one and shook it gallantly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Heh, it's no problem, really. I'm top in the class. Plus, I have it in with Snape. I know all of his tricks. He's sort of like, a Godfather to me." He spoke lightly. 'I'm telling her too much now.'

"Snape, your Godfather? Oh, help me now." They laughed.

"Alright, well, I had better get to my dorm room to change for Quidditch practice. I'll see you in the Great Hall, Rosie."

"Okay, then, I'll see you later!"

And they both went their separate ways.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. I own nothing. Creative license and such. .  
Anyways, I want to apologize for all of the grammatical errors in the last chapter. I was just so excited to post it that I did not carefully read over it enough before uploading. I promise to be more thorough with my editing from now on. Also, Draco's joke about Rosie's name is because the Beatles are from Liverpool. Thank you again and please, reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated! Read on my fellow Potthead fans ;)

Chapter Four  
In The Library

He was in his underground dormitory, standing in front of his long mirror, adorned in his rich emerald and gleaming silver Quidditch uniform and gear. He stared sullenly back at himself with melancholy grey eyes. This was his very own bedroom, adjacent to the Slytherin Common Room, for he was a Prefect, and also exceedingly rich. Draco always got what he wanted and had never known the sufferings of those who were born into poverty, or those who lacked the connections and aristocratic values essential to making quick and even dirty money. Thankfully, what Draco never lacked was propriety and class, but he did always have a high sense of self pride and would never enjoy when his dignity was trampled on by others, especially those who thought they were better than him; the ones who believe Draco to be slime and dirt, even though he was just bred and raised to be the way he is, the Godforsaken Golden Trio.

Draco has realized more and more as he's grown that he is rather confused as to if the things his parents and the Dark Lord want him to do are actually the right things to do. Draco was a Slytherin, but he felt as if there wasn't an evil bone in his body. Not really. He didn't quite always agree with his father but growing up, all he ever wanted was to impress Lucius, and not to disappoint him. That is why he tried so hard to be just like him. Cruel, and a complete snob. In the end, his father has shown that he has become something that Draco never ever wants to be: weak and pathetic. Getting his pride bruised constantly by Harry Pot-head and the Weasel-Face, not to mention Know-It-All-Ninny-Brains made him feel like complete garbage. Deep inside Draco's seemingly cold heart, all he truly sub-consciously wanted was to make friends. Perhaps not with the Gryffindor's, but if he hadn't been taught to be so stand-offish and uptight, maybe he would have more friends in general. It's not like he really thought people like Granger were any lesser than him. In fact, he was jealous of Hermione Granger, for she marked much higher than him in some classes. In other classes he surpassed her. This year was going to be different. He will study thoroughly and efficiently and will probably get top marks in all areas. Draco really wasn't worried about his grades.

He was only slightly worried of his predicament with Rosie. If he were to be honest with himself, which he sometimes was not when concerning his pride, he was a bit nervous about studying with her. If he were to get involved with her, friendship wise or romantically, it would not only bring her danger, but he may have to eventually bare it all and tell her of his secret life drenched in darkness. Not even the other Slytherins could know of this; of his dark mark, of the sick and twisted nature of the ways in which Voldemort wants him to hold hostages in the basement of Malfoy Manor and have him violently question them this upcoming winter holiday. He had no idea who the hostages were going to be, but he was hoping to God that it was not to be someone he knows or cares about. Unfortunately, that didn't make him want to cease thinking about kissing her lips. He stopped staring at himself long enough to notice his shining, cognac colored flask sitting on his stained black oak dresser. It was hiding behind a glass frame with a picture of his beautiful mother in it. "Ah, yes, dear old, friend," he said out loud. "I had forgotten you have my prized 1829 Scotch inside you." He grabbed the flask and took a large swig, coughed a bit and took another sip. "Mm, yum."

By the time his Quidditch practice was over Draco was quite inebriated, wandering the halls on his way back to his room to change out of his gear. He was going to eat a quick dinner at the Great Hall and then make his way to the library to take some time to study because it wasn't his night for Prefect duty. He could study while intoxicated, he had done it many a time before. He didn't need to shower either for he did not work that hard at practice today. Since he was Captain he could sit back and watch as his other teammates did their routine. He stood there most of the practice and silently took gulps from his flask. No one seemed to notice or care.

After he ate he entered the empty library and made his way to the back where he took a seat on a wooden chair with a desk. He liked this spot because he was completely surrounded by book cases with only a small opening to the area, like a maze. No one could see or bother him. He called it the Treehouse. Occasionally some of his fellow Slytherins would gather here to study together. It was a special spot. The area was stocked full of books that were perfect for Potions, Dark Arts, and Slytherin things in general. Draco had filled up his flask with more of his Scotch beforehand when he stopped back at his bedroom. He sat there in the Treehouse, continuing to take sips of it as he got out all of his notebooks and whatnot from his bag.

About forty-five minutes passed before Draco heard voices. "You're doing very well in this class. I see a lot of potential!" A shrilly high, yet jolly voice chimed from not too far away. Draco's ears piqued in eagerness. "Thank you so much, Professor Sprout. I really, really am vastly enjoying Herbology." Her voice was graceful and elegant yet there was strength when she spoke. Her voice commanded attention wherever she was. It was the voice of Rosie Riverpool. Draco's stomach flipped with excitement and he really wasn't sure what to do with himself. He would see where she was headed to before he made himself known. First, he wanted to eavesdrop. He was bred like a snake after all.

"I can see that, Miss Riverpool. Keep it up, you'll be on your way to the top of the class with those high marks of yours!" Rosie beamed at her teacher. "I sure will do my best." She said. "That is all we ask for here at Hogwarts. High-standards, yes, we do have, but we encourage those who truly try their hardest. We help those who help themselves. That's what Professor Dumbledore always says!" Professor Sprout continued. "Now, it was good running into you, I'm on my way back to my office, already got the book I needed, I just wanted to mention how excited I am for you! You'll do well here. Once again, if you ever need help or have a question you know where to find me!"

Rosie made a slight curtsey gesture and thanked Sprout for the fifth time. Rosie said thank you a lot. She had a politeness and etiquette that was not seen in many people. She was bred that way at that school. Grace and manners were just a handful of good traits Rosie obtained from living at Swanfern. At least she had class, and walked as if she was a beautiful mermaid floating in water, an ethereal goddess. She was surreal to Draco. Like she almost didn't exist. She was imaginary, made only for him. Just her voice made his slacks a little too tight and uncomfortable. He had to speak to her. He decided he would invite her into the Treehouse. He adjusted himself and stood up from his chair to go find her.

She had her nose in a book called Magical Flowers when he approached her. "Rosie?" he said lightly, as he tapped two fingers on her shoulder. "Oh, my, Draco," she effusively smiled, happy to see him. Then she caught whiff of alcohol under his breath as he leaned his hand against the bookcase behind her and whispered into her neck, "What are you reading?"

He twirled a lock of her mahogany hair, feeling how soft it was. She blushed in response. Her lips turned red from her biting them and all he could think of was pressing his mouth to hers. "Oh, it's just a book about flowers, special flowers, that is," she stammered. Draco fumbled with his cloak, wanting to take another sip from his flask he felt in his pocket, but he wouldn't do it out in the open. Rosie stared in bewilderment. "Are you doing alright, Mr. Malfoy?" she whispered, knowing full well he was under the influence.

"Me? Why yes, I'm fine," he said light-heartedly. "I was actually itching to go back to my special spot I call the Treehouse, but it's not actually a treehouse, it's just in the back of the library," he grabbed her hand. "This way," he directed her. "I assume I have no choice in this matter." She spoke as he led her to the back of the humongous room. "Not really," he said. They made it to the "Treehouse". When she walked through the path of bookcases she peered at the space in wonder. "Well, this isn't so bad," she told him. "Not at all," he responded.

They sat there together in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. Draco pulled out his flask in confidence. Rosie looked as if she was about to say something but he said, "Now, before you refuse my offer, please let me explain how this is Scotch from the year 1829, made and imported straight from Scotland. It's my father's favorite brew, and I grew up drinking it. Would you like some?" she seemed to ponder for a moment, then she said, "If it's from 1829, I would love to try it." She couldn't pass up an opportunity to try something so rare and so old. She took his flask in her hand. It was cognac colored. She loved it. "Beautiful flask, Malfoy."

"Please," he started. "You can call me Draco. I mean, if you'd like." He seemed bashful all of a sudden. Rosie sat there a minute, flask still in her hand before she spoke, "Well, you can call me Rosie, of course." She took a quick, small swig of the liquor and cleared her throat. "Wow, it burns a little. But it tastes good. Good… and old" she laughed. Draco chuckled. "I like it." He said.

Now it was her moment to question him, see what he had been doing here in the library. She crossed her legs. He noticed and kept his leery eyes low. "So, Draco, what have you been doing all night? Just drinking and studying?" she asked. "Yes, just getting some Arithmancy problems from my workbook out of the way. And drinking, yes," he breathed out. She was amused. "Well, alrighty then. Seems pretty boring to do it all alone," she stated. "Yes, I guess it is pretty sad isn't it, eh, I've got a lot to think about, you know,"

"I bet," she said.

"But you're keeping me company now."

"That is true," she took another gulp from his flask but handed it right back to him. "But, it is getting late Draco, it's half-past nine o'clock. We've both got to get back to our dormitories or we will be sorry." She made to move but he was fast, and lightly grabbed one of her thighs in his hands. "So what," he whispered against her ear, and then peered into her eyes with an intensity Rosie had never seen from anyone before. She was tongue tied at this point and just looked back at him, not sure what to do. Her stomach twisted, her world caved in. Her toes curled, and her breasts heaved as her heart thumped against her chest, giving away her weaknesses. One of his hands reached up and moved a piece of hair away from her face and as he did he cupped her soft cheek in his palm. His mouth was inches away from hers. "Please, Draco, not here, like this."

He paused for a moment. Not sure what to do. His heart was pounding; his brain was all fuzzy. She was telling him no. He could now no longer go further. He had to stop otherwise if he didn't he would insult her and bring shame to his name. So he would leave her alone. Until she wanted him back. She must not be ready. "Rosie, you are, so…" he was moving his hands up and down her arms and stroking her hair. "I'm sorry." He told her. He then grabbed his things and left her there, wanting him in the dim candlelight of the library.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns life, there I said it lol but no really I own nothing Harry Potter affiliated. Thank you for the favorites and follows! Reviews always welcome and greatly appreciated! Stay peaceful, my fellow fans!

Chapter Five  
Stardust

Rosie Riverpool could not sleep. She lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the Girl's Dormitory. Her mind and body were stricken with desire of the sort she had never felt before; a desire that had now been seeded deep within her, planted and sown by the Wolf. The thought of his pointed yet angular jaw line and the sparkle of lust he had in his dark eyes as he gazed at her made her belly, nested with newly born butterflies, flip flop and turn in utter nervousness. His mouth was merely inches from hers in that moment. It made her thighs quiver, the way his rough hands touched her legs at the hemline of her medium-length black skirt. She couldn't think, she could barely breathe. She had never, in her young life, been so close with a boy. Her whole being tingled in excitement. In between her thighs she felt a wetness that would cease to leave her since their quite casual meeting in the library hours ago. It had to be close to two in the morning now and she was still kept awake by the thought of Draco Malfoy. She had hoped this would pass, that he had just caught her off guard and she would be over it by now, but it didn't, and she wasn't.

'Curse him!' she thought angrily. 'I cannot let the thought of him keep me from sleeping. It's pathetic. He is probably asleep soundly, like a baby,' she felt bitter. She had never really had encounters, normal or otherwise, with the opposite sex until now. Some meetings were totally delightful, some were comical, others were unpleasant but most were just fine. Rosie had never felt attracted to somebody before. She wasn't sure how to react. Could she be herself around him? She would just have to laugh, make jokes, be sarcastic and be playful, just as she always was. If he was already making a move on her, drunk or not, she knew she must have a chance. Not that she would ever jump into bed with him right away. She would wait first, see if his intentions are genuine. Obviously, he was overcome with inhebriation at the library, and lost his inhibitions. He couldn't be like that normally, could he?

Even if he was, her heart had already been branded. The Wolf had already marked her as his, if she dared say so. She may be a fool-hearted Hufflepuff, but she already felt herself falling for him. She barely even knew him! How could she? Maybe she wasn't falling in love per say, she was only sixteen years old, but perhaps their souls intertwined and connected, sharing an unlikely bond that goes beyond comprehension of life. Maybe in was just hormones.

Draco lay awake in his own Prefect's Chamber. He had drifted off earlier when he had first arrived back at the Slytherin Common Room. He had been upset that Rosie rejected him, and he was very drunk, obliterated by the 1829 scotch and fell fast asleep. He had awoken suddenly in the middle of the night with a headache the size of Great Britain. He took a sip of old water in a glass on his end table and checked the clock. Two in the morning. 'Ugh! My brain is pounding against my skull,' he thought. He took out his ebony hawthorn wand and spoke the words, "Migrainium Eliminare." And his headache quickly dissipated. 'Haven't had a bad hangover in awhile,' he thought. He had hoped he would have slept it off but for some reason he was awake now and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to fall back asleep. His shoulders slumped and he lay himself back against the headboard. He felt completely uneasy. He felt as if he hurt Rosie's feelings. Draco hadn't meant to get so close to her but he really couldn't not help himself when she looked so beautiful in that dim light. And when she stopped him, he had felt so embarrassed at his own actions.

He would have to apologize to her. Yes, that is what he would do. Perhaps he would gain her trust back. Trust. He had to laugh at himself for that one. How would Rosie ever be able to trust him? Especially after this war is over, and if they're both still not dead by then, how would she ever forgive him for the things he's done, and for the things he hasn't yet? He hoped maybe there was another way. Because why? Was a mere girl to be Draco's ultimate downfall? Or would it be the thing that saves him, that saves them all? For now he would think more about her, of Rosie, and how lovely she is; how much he might be willing to risk everything for her. And he wasn't able to give a reason why, for his brain became fuzzy when he thought of her, and he felt numb all over. His mouth became dry, his body shook, and his heart quickened. The blood in him flooded to his erect member that was creeping up his abdomen. He began touching himself, grabbing his hardness. He let out a moan. He had to take care of this, then he knew he could fall back to sleep. He got more comfortable and began.

Everything would work itself out, because that is what destiny does. It cannot be rewritten, for it is mapped out in the stars. What is supposed to happen will, if it is meant to be. Two souls that have been connected since the beginning of time, interstellar specks of stardust that meet and connect for infinite lifetimes, will always re-bond time after time again, until the end of it all.

Sorry for the short chapter but it's just a little snippet to hold you over until I write again! Thanks always, gratefulsugar


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